


Five Things Watson Never Told Holmes

by ladyblahblah



Category: Sherlock Holmes - Arthur Conan Doyle
Genre: 5 Things, Drabble Collection, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-02-01
Updated: 2012-02-01
Packaged: 2017-10-30 10:55:52
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 502
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/330978
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ladyblahblah/pseuds/ladyblahblah
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>From a challenge on holmesslash: five things that Watson never told Holmes.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Five Things Watson Never Told Holmes

1\. The case was concluded.  The treasure was gone; where it had disappeared to this time was anyone’s guess, but it would certainly now never pass into Miss Morstan’s possession.  The last obstacle to my future happiness with her had been removed.  
  
I wondered if Holmes would ever know that he had been the first.  
  
My words were ordinary.  I had wanted them to be eloquent, but nerves tangled my tongue.  I asked, and she said yes.  
  
I had never asked him; still, he must have known.  His silence was my answer.  
  
Now I would try for happiness without him.  
  


 

  
2\. It was I who wrote, as he said, so convincing an account of the death of Sherlock Holmes.  My imagination had readily supplied the horrible images that I had missed, the sights and sounds of his long plunge into oblivion.  
  
How, then, could I explain the frequency with which my mind hearkened back to the Neville St. Clair case?  I seemed to hear, again and again, his wife explain the certainty she held that her husband yet lived.  “Such a keen bond of sympathy.”  
  
Holmes was not my husband, nor I his wife.  Yet I swear, I felt him still.  
  


 

  
3\. The letter arrived a week after the publication of that little story I entitled “The Empty House”.  I could not say what made me open it—it had not been, after all, addressed to me.  Thus I can not explain exactly how I came to be standing in the middle of our sitting room, staring at the signature concluding the note that welcomed Holmes back to the land of the living.  
  
I know only that my blood boiled to see that name.  
  
By the time Holmes returned, the paper had long since been consumed by the fire.   
  
“The woman”, indeed.

 

  
4\. Of all the words to pass Holmes’s lips in regards to my writing, the only positive ones that I heard with any regularity were in praise of my powers of selection.  In later years, this grew to include those salient details of our personal life that must, under no circumstances, be made public.  
  
I could never bring myself to tell him, then, of the unedited accounts which I kept locked in a strongbox beneath my bed.  
  
I have reason to believe, however, by evidence of some very curious stains upon the pages, that he has discovered them at last.

 

  
5\. One of my favorite pastimes is watching Sherlock Holmes in one of those rare moments of agitation that are only produced when something goes contrary to his expectations.  To see him hunt frantically throughout the sitting room for one of his misplaced files, his hair disheveled and his dressing gown whirling around him, is unspeakably arousing.  It is to my keen delight that he has been forced to engage in such behavior increasingly often of late.  
  
When he finds out I’ve been hiding his papers there will be hell to pay.  I must, therefore, enjoy this while it lasts.

 

 


End file.
